


Where Did the Party Go

by dandelionsknight



Category: RWBY
Genre: Aftercare, Domestic Bliss, F/F, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Spanking, They're engaged, Top Yang Xiao Long, a little praise kink, and yang...straps, i literally can't write smut without the bees reminding us and each other why they're so in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 06:09:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26468470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dandelionsknight/pseuds/dandelionsknight
Summary: Kissing Yang is like tasting the golden sunlight that seeps through their window on Sunday mornings. Making love to her is always so gentle, so right, Yang so attentive to her every need, and so…So vanilla. They’d experimented with some light bondage, enough to have a safe word. But not often, and sometimes, Blake can’t believe her partner is capable of treating her with such gentleness in bed.After all, she isn’t fragile. She knows what she wants, and she wants Yang unrestrained. Blake has always felt like the world demands Yang be less of herself, to feel and express her emotions less intensely than she actually experiences them.Blake wants Yang as she is, as intense as she knows her to be.
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long, Bumbleby - Relationship
Comments: 11
Kudos: 171





	Where Did the Party Go

**I.**

**This is Heaven, What I Truly Want**

Yang lifts Blake’s hand to her lips and kisses the back of it, just below where her engagement ring sparkles in the lights of their kitchen. They’d spent New Year’s Eve at Ruby and Weiss’s apartment with all their friends, having as close to as a refined dinner party as their group would ever get.

Blake and Yang had left just after midnight, cruising home on Bumblebee 2.0. The streets were empty, and in the red glow of every stop light, Blake had squeezed her arms around Yang’s waist and kissed the back of her neck.

They are twenty-five and Blake is happier than she ever thought she’d be in her entire life. After team RWBY spent the last few years doing what they do best as huntresses, they were taking a six-month respite from their usual action-packed lifestyle. The lien they’d earned from working is plenty for all of them to afford apartments, and it doesn’t hurt that Ruby and Weiss live together, as well as Blake and Yang.

Most nights, Yang would come home from her part-time job as a mechanic smelling of motor oil, grease smeared between the cracks of her knuckles. They did the kind of mundane stuff Blake once believed she would only be able to read about: cooking new recipes, renting movies, picking out furniture, trying to keep windowsill plants alive. She is more in love with Yang than she’s ever been, if that’s even possible.

Only a month ago, Yang had popped the question to her, in the comfort of their own apartment over a home-cooked meal: _Will you marry me, Blake Belladonna?_ The question had stunned her, even though there was no doubt about the answer. Blake had struggled for a long time to accept the idea that Yang truly wanted to commit to her, to love her until death do them part.

That is, until Yang was kneeling in front of her, holding up a ring like an offering. Blake is _not_ better off alone, and Yang whole-heartedly wants her to believe that. So she took Yang’s ring, took her offer, took her love, and kissed her and maybe even cried a little into her shoulder when Yang swept her up into her arms.

Since then, and since the beginning of their respite really, their relationship has been so warm and comforting. Kissing Yang is like tasting the golden sunlight that seeps through their window on Sunday mornings. Making love to her is always so gentle, so right, Yang so attentive to her every need, and so…

So vanilla. They’d experimented with some light bondage, enough to have a safe word. But not often, and sometimes, Blake can’t believe her partner is capable of treating her with such gentleness in bed.

After all, she isn’t fragile. She knows what she wants, and she wants Yang unrestrained. Blake has always felt like the world demands Yang be less of herself, to feel and express her emotions less intensely than she actually experiences them.

Blake wants Yang as she is, as intense as she knows her to be.

As Yang lowers her hand, Blake says, “Feeling tired yet?”

Yang stretches her arms above her head, muscles in her back popping. For the party, she’d worn a purple suit, but her jacket is currently around Blake’s shoulders.

Now she’s in just her purple trousers and black suspenders, the top two buttons of her white shirt undone. Though Yang almost always exudes confidence, in a moment like this of such effortless handsomeness, Blake wonders if she knows just how good she looks.

“Depends,” Yang says, then grins. “Where’s that question headed?”

Blake softly laughs, and places herself with her back against the counter, leaning her hands against it. “I’ll take that as a no?”

“If you’re not tired, I’m not tired,” Yang says, sliding her arms around Blake’s waist and leaning in. “How about another New Year’s kiss?”

Blake smiles and wraps her arms around Yang’s neck, pulling her partner down. She slides her tongue against Yang’s lower lip, and the two of them kiss. Her partner’s lips are warm and slightly chapped from the winter weather.

When they pull apart, she says, “Babe, I…” When her cheeks flush with heat, Blake realizes she’s embarrassed.

“What’s up?” Yang tilts her head, eyes softening with concern.

Swallowing, Blake finally says, “I want you to take control. In the bedroom.”

Yang’s pupils dilate. “What do you mean?”

She can’t do undo what she’s done now, so Blake says all at once, “Do whatever you want to me. I want to…just…I want you to be in control. Don’t hold yourself back.”

“I don’t hold back when we- ”

Blake presses a quick kiss to her lips. “I know that you do. Just for one night, don’t think about me. Do what you want. If it’s too much, I’ll let you know.”

Her partner stands there, biting her lower lip. Blake hates the silence, suddenly wonders if she asked too much. Folding her ears back, Blake says, “You don’t have any fantasies about me?”

“No, I do,” Yang says, then looks her over from toe to head. “You want this now?”

“Do you want it now?” Blake fires back.

She nods, leaning in to kiss Blake’s neck. “I want it now. I want _you_.”

Three little words return Blake’s confidence to her, and she grins. “Okay. What do you want me to do?”

Yang steps away, saying, “Just wait there. I’ll call you when I’m ready.”

She nods, and Yang disappear into their bedroom. She pours herself a glass of water to wet her dry mouth, then looks at her reflection in the microwave window, combing her fingers through her hair and giving it a quick fluff.

Folding up Yang’s suit jacket, she leaves it on the counter to grab later. Finally, she tugs down her golden dress, giving her breasts a lift. The dress hits only mid-thigh on her – not only had she complimented Yang gorgeously at the party, but she had hoped it might rile her partner up, too.

“Blake?”

Yang’s voice carries from their bedroom, and Blake kicks off her heels and appears at the doorway. Outside, it had started raining, dim moonlight pouring through the curtains and illuminating Yang. She sits on the edge of their bed in just a black sports bra and sweats, hair tied in a ponytail, and she’s drinking Blake in with a look of pure hunger. Blake could lose herself in that expression, in the riptide of her partner’s wanting.

“Come here,” Yang says, and Blake immediately does, straddling Yang’s lap and lowering herself onto it.

“I hope I told you how beautiful you look tonight,” Yang says, head titled back, gazing at her with adoration. She runs her hands up Blake’s thighs, bunching up the dress, exposing the black lace panties she’s wearing underneath.

“You did,” Blake says, running a hand through her own hair. “But you can always tell me twice.”

“Take off your dress,” Yang says.

The dress doesn’t even have a zipper – in one smooth motion, Blake tugs it over her head and tosses it in the corner. Yang leans in and presses a kiss against her throat.

“Bra, too,” Yang says. “Pretty as it is.”

The black lace bra does match her panties, but Blake quickly discards it. Yang gathers her breasts with both hands, massaging the soft skin, and lowers her mouth to one of them, flicking her tongue over one of Blake’s already hard nipples. She moves to bury her hands in Yang’s hair, but Yang says,

“No touching. Stay still like a good girl.”

The effect is immediate – the rush right down to her belly, Blake instantly dropping her hands to her sides as Yang swirls her tongue around her nipple before drawing it fully into her mouth and sucking. Blake has always found this intimate, the attention Yang pays to sucking one nipple before coating both breasts in kisses, no spot left untouched, unworshipped.

Yang hooks a finger in the waistband of her panties. Twisting the lace around it, she pulls the waistband taut, then releases, letting it snap against Blake’s skin. “Take these off, too.”

She scrambles off of Yang to pull them down her legs, then returns to her place straddling her lap. Her partner leans back, resting her hands on the bed.

“Touch yourself,” Yang says.

Blake betrays herself with the way her eyes widen, but Yang just cocks her head and watches with interest. Her partner is still clothed, while she is fully naked, skin prickling with goosebumps, nipples wet and peaked from Yang’s attentions, her sex slick with arousal. Yang wants her to touch herself – to perform for her. Blake’s cheeks feel hot.

She had always preferred going unnoticed. Never wanted a spotlight, an expectant audience, or a gaze to linger. But the one person she does like to notice her, whose attention she not so much wants as craves, is Yang.

Her partner leans forward and kisses her stomach. “Go on. You’re beautiful, I promise.”

She realizes she’d folded her ears down, and relaxes them as Yang leans back again. Straightening her spine, she lowers one hand down to her sex, the other massaging her own breast. She teases herself, running a finger through her own wetness, before rubbing her hand in circles over her clit.

“Baby, you have no idea how sexy you look right now,” Yang says, grinning.

Emboldened by Yang’s words, Blake lowers herself a little more onto her lap, and that’s when she feels the bulge beneath her sweatpants. It feels like she gets wetter just with the knowledge that Yang is already wearing the strap-on, ready to fuck her the moment she drops the sweats. She starts rocking her hips and slides a finger inside herself, biting her lip.

Yang’s mouth is half-open watching her and she says, barely more than a whisper, “That’s it. You’re doing so good.”

As Blake moves faster over her clit, Yang leans forward, grabbing her ass with one hand. Just as she hits her rhythm, feeling like she might even come with her partner’s eyes on her, Yang gives her ass a light slap. Not nearly enough to hurt, but the sound of it, the short sting, makes her jump.

Yang wraps her arms around her waist, looking up at her. “That okay?”

Her partner is giving her a chance to use their safe word, to stop what she’d set in motion, to stop being intimate entirely, if that’s what she wants. But she’d liked it. Wants to feel it again from her partner, wants to give up her control, put her trust in her completely. She knows Yang would never hurt her.

“I’m good,” Blake says. “Th-that was good.”

“Okay,” Yang says. “Then climb down, and lie down in my lap. On your stomach.”

She feels light-headed just imagining the request, but somehow, she manages it, stretching herself out over Yang’s lap, ass up. Yang’s hand drifts to her sex, picking up where she’d left off touching herself, while her other hand rubs Blake’s back. The gesture is so immediately comforting that Blake is able to let go of her restless energy, relaxing, the side of her face pressed against the comforter.

Rain whispers against the window, followed by low, rumbling thunder somewhere far in the distance. Blood roars in her ears as her heart races, and she wonders if Yang can feel her erratic pulse. Yang slides two fingers inside of her and she moans as her partner crooks them, thumb still rubbing her clit.

“Good girl,” Yang says softly. “You’re dripping for me.”

Blake squirms, feeling hyper-sensitive, every nerve ending tuned into how Yang is touching her. As her partner fucks her with her fingers, the pleasure builds and builds in Blake’s core, white-hot and pressurized. Her orgasm is so close, she feels like can reach out and touch it.

Until Yang slides her fingers out, and slaps her ass again. The pain is a moment of clarity in her head swimming with pleasure, and she cries out and grabs the comforter with both hands. Her sex is throbbing, slick and wet, as Yang spanks her again. The sound of it shatters the otherwise quiet of their bedroom, the murmuring of rain, and Blake can’t describe the sting of it as anything other than _satisfying_.

Yang slaps her ass again, and then _again¸_ with the most force yet. She whimpers, burying her face into the bed. “You’re doing so good,” Yang says, massaging her ass. “So good.”

All of Blake’s senses are scrambled, lost somewhere between pain and pleasure, the heady thrill of Yang’s complete attention focused on her. She’s completely prone in her partner’s lap, unable to even see when she’ll spank her again. She wants to beg Yang to help her come, but can’t seem to form the words, only hold her breath for the next blow.

When it does come, all she can do is moan and squirm as Yang spanks her three times in succession, finishing off with a fourth that makes her jerk and cry out. Her ass is hot and stinging, and her partner immediately starts to rub the spot where she’d hit.

“Good girl,” Yang says, and moves her hand down to her sex again.

She buries three fingers inside her, Blake taking them easily with how wet she is. Crooking them inside her, thumb placing constant pressure on her clit, the pleasure acts as a balm to any lingering pain from the spanking. She’s desperate to come now, grinding on her partner’s fingers as the pressure in her core builds.

“ _Yang_ ,” she finally moans, the orgasm making her whole body shudder.

She lies there, catching her breath while Yang starts to rub her back again. Now that she’s come at least once, she’s able to regain some of her faculties, and lets herself enjoy the massage.

“Sit up,” her partner finally says.

Blake does, shaking out her hair, and kneeling on the bed beside Yang. As much as she enjoyed that, she hopes that's not all Yang has in mind.

“Feeling good? You want to keep going?” Yang asks.

“Yeah, I – that was great,” Blake says, then immediately blushes.

Yang smiles and draws her in for a kiss, cupping the back of Blake’s head with her hand. “I’ll keep that in mind, then.”

She stands up, pulling off the sports bra. Blake is enchanted by the sight of her topless fiancée, the way the moonlight outlines her biceps, her full breasts, her stretch marks fading into her waistband. Yang catches her staring and winks as she tugs her pants off, and Blake’s wetness returns as the strap-on springs free of the sweats. Before Yang can get back on the bed, Blake says,

“Wait. Stay there.”

“Now you’re giving me orders?” Yang asks, teasing, but she offers a hand to help her, which Blake accepts as she gets off the bed, too.

“You can tell me if you don’t like it,” Blake says, and kneels in front of her partner.

She _sees_ the moment Yang realizes what’s happening, the way her eyes darken and her lips part. Placing her hands on Yang’s hips, Blake runs her tongue from the base of the silicon cock to the tip. Yang pulls her hair back for her, holding it back with one hand while her other hand closes around the back of Blake’s head.

Now that she knows her partner has an imagination full of fantasies about her, hopefully, Blake’s fulfilling one right now. She takes the cock into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it, and begins sucking with as much intention as if she were sucking on Yang’s clit.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Yang says, and bucks her hips, Blake taking in the strap-on until it touches the back of her throat.

Her gag reflex kicks in and Blake has to pull back, sucking in air, a line of drool connecting her mouth to the strap-on. But she had liked the way that felt, and she wraps her hand around the base of the silicon cock, pumping it as her lips close around the head. She looks at Yang through her lashes as she sucks the strap, easing more of into her mouth.

Yang is staring down at her with her lips parted, breath shallow. She tightens her fingers in Blake’s hair and pushes on the back of her head, urging her to take it all. Inch by inch, Blake does, and Yang starts to rock her hips, the cock sliding in and out.

“You are so sexy,” Yang whispers, and Blake’s ears twitch at the praise. “Good girl, good job.”

She finally lets the strap out of her mouth, and Yang puts a hand under her chin, wiping away a bit of drool with her thumb. Blake realizes that she’s absolutely _dripping_ , even more ready than before for her partner to fuck her. Yang tucks Blake’s hair behind her ear, stroking her cheek with the back of her hand, and she feels like she’s the only thing on the planet Yang is aware of.

All this time, there had been no doubt in Blake’s mind that Yang loves her. She’d asked her to marry her, after all. But this, ordering her to do what she wants, telling her how sexy she is at every turn, spanking her one minute then bringing her to orgasm the next, this is fulfilling what she’d felt was missing.

Blake wants to be desired as well as loved.

Standing up, she lays her hands on Yang’s chest, smiling. On tiptoes, she leans into her partner and kisses the shell of her ear, saying,

“How much do you want me?”

Yang grins, circles her arms around Blake’s waist and squeezing. “Let me show you.”

**II.**

**Every Inch of You**

This entire night has sharpened Yang's focus down to the artful curve of Blake’s spine, the red of her lips as they wrapped around the strap, the heated rasp of her voice. The blowjob had rendered her speechless and motionless, until Blake had stood and asked how much she wanted her. As if Yang could ever put it into words.

She turns Blake toward the bed, pushing on her shoulders, her partner understanding immediately and bending over, elbows on the bed. Stepping up behind her, Yang runs a hand down her back and stops at her ass, massaging the skin that still had a slight red tinge to it. She almost couldn’t believe how into the spanking Blake was – the thought of it had always sent Yang plunging into a cold shower, feeling too dirty, too harsh. Too much.

But watching the way Blake quivered and moaned in her lap, her body tensing and practically curling in on itself when Yang finally brought her to orgasm, she’d entered into a whole new dimension of loving her. By giving her what she wanted.

Her fiancée is so unbelievably sexy when she lets go like that.

Taking in the full angle, Blake’s feet on the ground with her forearms on the bed, Yang decides this isn’t quite the right position she wants to fuck Blake in.

“Baby,” Yang says, and when Blake stands up, she brushes aside her hair and plants a kiss in between her sharp shoulder blades. “Get on the bed. Lie on your stomach.”

Blake does as she asks, stretching herself out and rolling her hips, sending a new wildfire of desire burning through Yang. She grabs a pillow to put under Blake’s hips, and finally gets on her knees behind her partner. She begins to rub Blake’s shoulders, saying,

“Just relax for me. This okay?”

Closing her eyes, ears twitching, Blake says, “I’m good.”

Nodding, she watches her partner’s body sink into the mattress, each muscle uncoiling beneath her fingers, knees hitting the bed as only her ass remains in the air. Yang rubs her hot, dripping sex, just to make sure she’s still aroused, and Blake whimpers softly.

Her fiancée’s skin glows like carved marble in the moonlight, the shadows of raindrops on the window dappling her shoulders and back. Even in the low light, Yang can trace every perfect arch and curve of her, dark hair shining like spilled ink where it pools over her neck. Tracing the indents her bra had left around her ribcage, she lines up her cock at Blake’s entrance.

Yang runs her hands down the smooth skin of Blake’s body, stopping to squeeze her generous hips, slotting her thumbs into the dimples set into her lower back. She’s made love to Blake probably hundreds of time by now, could find her way along her body in total darkness if she had to, knows the language each subtle gasp and shudder speaks.

But Yang can’t remember the last time she’s wanted to simply fuck her, to make Blake forget her own name and replace it only with the knowledge of her’s. She eases the strap-on inside her, Blake moaning as Yang bottoms out, letting her partner adjust to the length.

She’s buried to the hilt inside her. Filling her partner, and once Blake has adjusted, Yang draws her hips back, then pumps back into her. Blake whimpers,

“ _Please_.”

The word is built on nothing but pure need. Yang can hear it in the way her voice cracks. It takes every ounce of self-control not to fuck her immediately, but the neediness makes her core ache with desire. “Please what?” Yang asks.

“Please,” Blake says again, trying to move her hips back against Yang, but she stills her. “Fuck me.”

Yang is practically drooling. She’s never wanted her _this much_. “How do you want to be fucked?”

To take some of the edge off, Yang leans down and kisses her back, slowly rocking her hips to give Blake a little friction. Her partner squirms, grabbing fistfuls of their comforter, and says, “Hard. I want you to fuck me hard.”

Yang grins. She feels like she’s won a victory, coaxing Blake to put words to her desires. And it also just so happens that they coincide with exactly what Yang wants to do to her. Maybe that’s why they make such a great pair.

“Aright, baby,” Yang says.

Then she fucks her, pounding her hard and fast from behind, thighs hitting Blake’s ass with spectacular slapping sounds. Her fiancée moans her name into the blankets while Yang leans farther forward, planting her hands on either side of Blake, her cock settling even deeper in her sex. She faces almost no resistance as she pounds her fiancée’s pussy, treated to the filthy noises Blake isn’t even trying to hold back anymore.

“That’s it,” Yang says, giving her ass two quick slaps. “You take my strap so well.”

Blake is panting now, bobbing her hips in time with Yang’s. She brushes two fingers against Blake’s lips and she draws them inside her mouth immediately, sucking and licking them. With her other hand, she strokes back Blake’s hair, seeing the sweat beginning to form on her neck and back. Yang wants to dive inside this moment and live in it forever.

Blake says, “Yang, I’m… _fuck_ …”

“Close, babe? Go ahead. Come for me,” Yang says, taking her fingers out of Blake’s mouth so she can rest her cheek against the comforter.

She senses the moment Blake’s orgasm hits, the way she gasps and her legs twitch, body still for just a moment as Yang makes pleasure the only sensation known to her partner. She slows down, eventually pulling the strap-on out of Blake, who lies there catching her breath. For a moment, Yang just drinks in the sight of her, eyes half-closed, cheeks red with pleasure, ears folded back and twitching only occasionally. When Blake does open her eyes, she meets Yang’s hungry gaze.

“Get on your back,” Yang says.

Her partner rolls over, splayed out just for Yang. Straddling Blake’s hips, Yang leans down and says,

“Still good? You want more?”

Blake circles her arms around her back, pulling her down as she says, “I’m good. You have more to give?”

Foreheads touching, Yang gives her a quick kiss and says, “Always.”

She kisses her properly now, hand dropping down to rub circles around Blake’s clit, which is still drenched. Blake tastes faintly of champagne and the remains of the red lipstick she’d worn to the party. She fits perfectly against Yang, two bodies cast from the same mold. 

“Ready?” Yang asks against her lips.

When Blake nods, Yang finishes off the kiss by nipping her lower lip. Blake moans, just as Yang guides her cock back inside her. This is a wholly different experience, watching the way Blake’s brows scrunch together and her lips part. She’s blindingly beautiful, a fallen star seen up close.

All night, Blake has performed so well for her, opening herself up to Yang’s desires. She wants to reward her for it.

As she is falling back into their more familiar pace, slowly rocking her hips, Blake sinks her nails into Yang’s shoulders and says, “I know you can fuck me harder than that.”

The words make Yang feels like she’s about to catch fire. “Is that what you want?”

“I thought that last round was just a warm-up,” Blake says, cocking her head and smiling up at her.

If that’s what Blake wants, then that’s what she’ll get. Bracing her forearms on either side of her fiancée, she starts to pump her hips faster. Blake wraps her legs around Yang’s waist and drags her nails down her back, whimpering.

The pain is delicious, the pricking of Blake’s nails mingling with the pressure in her own clit from where the strap-on rubs against it. Though she knows Blake had been trying to tease her and rile her up by calling the last round a warm-up, it still works.

Kissing Blake’s throat, Yang rasps, “You’re going to wish I gave you a little more of a warm-up.”

Blake’s breath catches, the last thing Yang processes before activating her semblance, sans the fiery hair. She figures lighting their sheets on fire wouldn’t be the best way to conclude the night. Zeroing in on the pain of Blake’s nails scraping down her back, she transfuses it into a fresh burst of strength to her muscles.

Yang finally lets go, of trying to restrain herself, trying to protect Blake from the parts of herself that seem too volatile. She pounds into her fiancée, pouring out all of herself like molten gold, burying her face in Blake’s neck and mumbling her name over and over again, a mantra, a reminder, a reason to keep fucking the woman underneath her.

Blake is writhing, so soft and warm, and Yang thinks about the dozens of time she’d wanted to rail her like this. Blake stepping out of the shower, yukata open while runs her fingers through her dark, wet hair. Blake lying in a pool of sunlight on their bed, knowing _exactly_ what it did to Yang when she stretched and her shirt slid up, revealing her stomach and hips. Blake watching Yang not so subtly while she works out in the living room, and Yang has to bite her lip hard enough to draw blood to not break focus with weights in the air.

The fall of rain outside their window feels so far away, another world entirely from this one, the one where Yang nips Blake’s neck and tastes the salty sweat on her skin while Blake cries out her name.

Yang knows how hot and bright she is. She’s been waiting for someone her whole life to see that about her and still love her. Blake is that person, the one person who can stand in the heat of Yang’s flame and never feel frightened or overwhelmed. Grabbing Blake’s wrist, she puts her arm above their heads and grasps her hand, twining their fingers together.

The feel of their palms pressed against one another, the way Blake squeezes her hand, helps keep her anchored as she loses herself a little more inside her semblance. Blake is amazing, so eager, so pliant underneath her, crying out in ecstasy while Yang fucks her pussy and leaves no piece of herself not dedicated to her fiancée.

Pressure is building low in her stomach, Yang’s senses practically shutting down as she’s driving toward the cliff her orgasm lies over, every thought and instinct simplified down to the meeting of their bodies. Buried inside Blake, she can’t even tell where she begins and her partner ends.

“ _Blake_ ,” Yang gasps, the only word she can manage.

She comes, fully drowned in the sea of Blake, her smell of old paper and jasmine tea, her skin sinking into her fingertips like warm silk, her raspy voice as Blake moans her name, too. Black spots pop into her vision as she collapses on top of her, panting. Her body is coated in a sheen of cooling sweat. Blake is panting too, one hand playing with Yang’s hair.

She’s afraid to speak. “Was that-”

Blake nudges her way to Yang’s mouth and kisses her, smiling against her lips and whispering, “You’re amazing.”

Yang smiles back, an immediate feeling of relief washing over her. “I, um, I wanted to make you tea, but maybe it’s a little late for tea. How about water? Or I can still make you – ”

“Water sounds great,” Blake says, kissing her cheek.

Nodding, Yang finally eases the strap-on out of her partner and climbs off the bed. She leaves the strap to soak in soapy water in the bathroom, then fixes a glass of iced water. From the laundry room, she grabs them both fresh underwear and shirts, putting hers on and carrying Blake’s. Lastly, before returning to her partner, she wets a washcloth with warm water.

Blake is stretched out on their bed, head turned toward the window. The rain continues to fall against it, a flash of lightning illuminating Blake’s body for a second. Her partner hasn’t noticed her come in, so Yang just smiles, taking her in one more time tonight, how gorgeous she is.

Approaching the bed, Yang says, “I come bearing gifts.”

Blake looks at her and stretches, saying, “Oh, sorry, I’ve just been laying here. You know I love storms.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Yang hands Blake the water, who sits up and drinks. “Don’t be sorry,” she says, then holds up the warm washcloth. “Uhm, I brought this. I know you usually like to take a shower or a bath after, but it’s so late…” The clock by their bed reads almost 3 AM.

Blake reaches for it, but Yang stops her. “Let me.”

Sitting back, Blake smiles and says, “Okay.”

Yang scoots back and pulls Blake’s legs into her lap, running the washcloth along the inside of her thighs and over her stomach. “Good?” Yang asks.

Blake nods. “Thank you,” she says.

“Of course.”

While Yang tosses the washcloth into the dirty clothes hamper and lowers the thermostat so they can sleep, Blake pulls on the clean clothes. The final step in her nightly ritual, Yang disconnects her prosthetic arm from her shoulder and sets it inside the case. As Yang is pulling back the comforter to climb in next to Blake, her partner says, “This is your shirt.”

“I know,” Yang says, then finally finds enough courage to wink. “It’s a little memento from me to you.”

“What, of tonight?” Blake asks, laughing.

Yang grins as she lies down next to her fiancée. Blake curls into her side, wrapping her arm around her waist and resting her head on her shoulder. Yang puts her arm around her partner and kisses the top of her head.

Underneath the blankets together, they relax into each other. Yang feels so warm and safe even while she’s holding Blake. Though still, a small part of her wonders if all of that had been too much, and Blake just wasn’t saying it.

“Hey,” Blake says, and Yang turns her head to look at her. “Was that good for you?”

The question shocks her. Actually, she almost has to laugh at herself. Here they are, snuggled up together, both of them seized by almost the same insecurity.

Yang says, “It was amazing, babe. I – yeah, it was good. Really good.”

“I just wanted to make sure, because…it was really good for me too,” Blake says, and hides her face a little in Yang’s shoulder. “And you know, if you want to do that again…”

“You wouldn’t say no?”

Blake laughs and shakes her head, kissing Yang’s shoulder. “I definitely would not say no.”

Tracing absent shapes on Blake’s back, Yang says, “Alright. I’ll start planning for our wedding night, then, baby. I’m going to blow your mind.”

“Gods, _stop_ it,” Blake says, and even in the darkness, Yang knows her face is red.

She leans down and kisses Blake’s nose. “I’m kidding. Partially.”

Rolling her eyes, Blake shakes her head and says, “I love you, you big tease.”

“I love you too. So much.”

They doze together, listening to the storm, the way the rain drips from the gutters and down the side of the building. Their bedroom is cool but Blake is so warm, pressed against her, stretching out in contentment and burying her face in the crook of Yang’s neck. Just before she falls asleep, before she can lose her nerve, Yang turns to brush her nose against Blake’s and whisper,

“Thank you.”

Blake’s only reply is a smile and a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> not me writing another bees fic with a FOB song as the title!! just kidding, that's completely on brand for me 
> 
> i believe someone once commented on another of my fics that we could always use more good, loving smut in the bumbleby tag, and you know what? they're right. i hope you all enjoyed!
> 
> this fic was inspired by a prompt someone sent into my tumblr! you canhang out with me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/dandelionsnight) or [Tumblr!](https://dandelionsknight.tumblr.com/)


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